Broomsticks & Angel Blades
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: After explaining her vision that a shape-shifter was murdering people in Dean's image, they must help a witch exact revenge due to the fact that the same shifter has been after her family for hundreds of years. But the one catch was that they must do it before the witch reaches the end of her last life. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR WITCHES OF EAST END)
1. Chapter 1

The engine of the Impala purred as the Winchester brothers drove lazily along the blacktopped road. Houses and shops lined the streets of the town, a large sign declaring it to be named "East End" when they and first drove in. People strolled about, some in pairs, others single.

"So, where did Bobby say to meet again?" Dean asked his brother, squinting out the windshield as he turned a corner. Sam opened a map, the paper rustling as he pulled it taught. Lines and dots representing avenues and historical landmarks criss-crossed on the page, looking like one big confusing mess instead of anything that might have been slightly helpful. Tracing the dots with his eyes, he focused on a red on, a picture of a house drawn next to it.

"It says here the place is called the Bent Elbow," Sam said, "and it should be around this corner." Grumbling to himself, Dean spun the wheel, making a sharp left.

"What the heck kind of name is The Bent Elbow?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged, folding the map as best he could- it was hard to figure out which crease and fold net where.

"I don't know," he said simply, "I don't name the places." They drove along for a few minutes, Sam staring out the window, watching as residents walked by and did everyday things- nothing out of the ordinary. Gulping, Sam asked, "So, why does Bobby want to meet us?" He kept his eyes trained on the glass barrier that kept him in the car with his brother, who was now fiddling with the radio.

"Dunno," Dean said simply, settling on the classic rock station- As he usually does, Sam thought with arrogance- "All his note said was that there was a woman who wanted to meet us-"

"Woman?" Sam interrupted, "what woman?"

"He didn't say whom, just that she wanted to meet us," Dean scowled at his little brother as Aerosmith's "Highway To Hell" blared on the radio, and he couldn't help but star humming along, much to Sam's annoyance. Dean grinned- he loved annoying his brother any chance he could, no matter how small the supposed issue was. Music was one of them, seeing as Sam found it almost unbearable to listen to. _But then again_, Dean thought, _that's the rule_. Squinting out of the windshield, Dean jutted his chin down the block.

"Sammy, is that it?" he asked, catching his brother's attention, as he had currently been staring at a black cat for the past five minutes. Dean had noticed it too, but he didn't find anything extremely fascinating with it except for the fact that it had been walking funny- a bit lopsided, as if it was hit by something earlier. Shaking the thought of the cat out of his head, Dean repeated the question, unsure if Sam had heard him.

"Yeah, that's it- pull into here," he instructed, pointing out a rickety wooden sign naming the bar, as well as pointing towards the parking lot, which was hidden behind a large bush. As soon as he had parked, Dean and Sam climbed out of the car, slamming the doors behind them.

"The Bent Elbow," Dean read the sign almost wistfully, and Sam noted a sort of hopeful gleam in his brother's green eyes. Sam chuckled, kicking a rather large piece of gravel with the toe of his boot.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"It's nothing," Sam laughed, "besides, Bobby will probably get annoyed with having to wait any longer, no?" Dean grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What, don't wanna get grounded?" he joked, "but yeah, he'll probably blow a gasket." Nodding in agreement, the two brothers approached the doors, Dean pressing a button on the keys to the Impala. As Sam walked in, he grinned with satisfaction, hearing the click of his baby's doors locking shut. Shutting the door of the place behind him, Dean joined Sam, who was sitting in the waiting area, tapping his foot impatiently.

"So, you see Bobby?" Dean asked, rubbing his chin. There was noise everywhere- whether it was coming from the televisions (that were playing some sort of sports event) or the people deciding to make a pit-stop for a drink- it was probably one of the loudest places he had been to on Earth. Looking around the sea of people, he finally spotted the old man- he was sitting in a corner booth, a blue and white baseball cap squashed atop his head. Catching Sam's attention, he and his brother waltzed through the crowd, sliding into empty chairs.

"About time you two idjits got here," Bobby said gruffly. A beer was resting on the table, the glass slick with condensation. The chairs creaked as the brothers sat down, Dean letting his eyes roam at the customers and employees, his eyes falling on a particularly young woman working the bar. From what he could see (and there was quite a distance between them), she had dark hair that was falling don just over her shoulders, reaching chest length, and she wore a black bustier over a pair of blue jeans.

"So, you said there was a woman you wanted us to meet?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother, who was focused intensely on the bartender. Sam jabbed Dean with his elbow, "Dude, focus." Dean blinked, still not focused on the conversation between them. The bartender was wiping down the counter with a rag, the motions of her wrist completely captivating to Dean.

"Dean?" Sam tried again, this time snapping his fingers in his face. Dean shoved his hand away, pushing the chair out to get up.

"I'll get us some drinks, 'kay?" he said, Sam and Bobby staring at his back in disbelief as he weaved his way through the crowds.


	2. Chapter 2

Wendy Beauchamp had women up that morning covered in sweat. Panting heavily, she sat up in bed, the egyptian cotton sheets her sister had cleaned the night before tickling her skin. The green t-shirt Joanna had lent her for pajamas was baggy, the sleeve hanging off her frame to reveal her shoulder.

_It was all too real_, she thought,_ too good to be real… _

Slowly, she climbed out of bed, straightening her clothes as best she could- not that she could wear ratty old pajamas all day (which she probably could en dup getting away with). She shrugged, ambling out of the small guest bedroom. The wooden floor was cool against the bottoms of her feet as she found her way to her sisters room, eyeing the large queen sized bed that rested in the corner of the room by the window. Ignoring it, she went straight for the closet, throwing the doors open wide. Clothes of every size, shape and color were stuffed on hangers, fighting to be taken out of the miserable darkness deemed suitable to keep them in.

"Geez," Wendy commented under her breath, "Joanna, my dear, you dress like a school teacher."

"That's because I am a school teacher," came a voice from behind her. Putting on a smile, Wendy swiveled around to face her sister, who clutched a paintbrush in one hand and yellow ceramic mug in the other.

"Of course you are," she joked, tossing the article she had been holding- an orange button down shirt with large black buttons going down the center- on the floor, much to Joanna's dismay.

"I teach art, Wendy," Joanna said snidely, walking over to pick up the clothes, "and I just washed this!" Wendy rolled her grey eyes at her- she was so picky sometimes!

"Well, just clean it again or something!" Wendy shot back, unable to come up with anything better. Admiring herself in the mirror, she began playing with the ends of her dark hair, biting her lower lip, "So, uh, how are the girls?" Joanna sent a loving glare her sister's way as she shoved the orange shirt back into the closet. Now that the girls knew what they were, they were alway spending time with her trying to perfect their magic.

"They're fine," she said with a shrug, crossing her arms over her chest, "now what do you want for breakfast?" Wendy pouted, her hands moving from he hair to the green and gold necklace that hung on her neck. Hanging on a golden chain was an emerald circle, and hanging from that circle was an oval shaped jewel, also emerald. IT gleamed as the sun hit it, sending small patch sod light to dance on the floor and the ceiling depending on how she moved.

"Got any cat food?" Wendy asked before going back to the closet. Shoving her hands inside, she rummaged around before pulling out a simple black frock with a golden design on the hem and neckline, a matching sash hanging from the waist, "How would this look?" Joanna rolled her eyes, going to the door, "it will look fine, Wendy, just get dressed, okay?"

"Whatever!" Wendy sent a laugh as Joanna left her alone, closing the door with a soft click behind her. As soon as the foo thad been shut, Wendy slipped the dress over her head, staring at the mirror as she straightened herself out.

"Looking good, hon," she told herself as she fluffed up her hair before decided to leave the mirror alone. She could hear a commotion downstairs as she entered the lower half of the house, wiggling her toes as she walked.

"But Mom-" she could hear her niece Freya whine as she walked into the kitchen. Joanna was standing at the stove, stirring something in a silver pot. The paintbrush she was holding earlier as now tucked behind her ear, orange paint dripping onto the back of a crisp white shirt.

"No buts Freya," Joanna cut her daughter off, "that's my rule!" Freya rolled her eyes with a scowl, suddenly brightening up when she saw Wendy planted firmly in the doorframe.

"Hey, Aunt Wendy!" Freya said cheerfully, patting the seat next to her, "what's new in the Wendiverse?"

"What's up with you?" she countered, shooting down Freya's question as the dream suddenly came back to her. _I won't tell them just yet_, she thought, taking the seat next to Freya. After all, it had only been recently the girls had found out about their powers. She didn't want to worry them too much. Freay suddenly scowled, tangling her dark hair in her fingers, her nails painted a deep, venomous red.

"Mom says Ingrid and I can't use magic in the house," she complained, resting her elbows on the table. Joanna was still focused on whatever was in the pot as she called over her shoulder, "It didn't matter when you didn't know, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but how am I going to learn if you won't let me use it?" Freya asked.

"Ingrid is fine with not using it," Joanna said, taking the pot off the stove with a cloth, "now eat up. I hear Saturday is a busy day at the bar." Carefully, she spooned what Wendy could only discern to be oatmeal into a bowl, the white substance sticky and somewhat lumpy looking.

"Of course she is," Freya muttered under her breath as she picked up a spoon sitting on the table, shoving it into her breakfast. Wendy wrinkled her nose as she watched her niece eat, some of the oatmeal falling small clumps on the table cloth.

"I'm sorry, but how can you guys eat that?" she asked exasperatedly. As she said this, Joanna had taken out a can of cat food, busily trying to figure to which way the can opener was supposed to attach to the lid. Wendy scoffed.

"Are you serious?" she chuckled as Joanna finally got it open after a few minutes of struggling, sliding it across the table. It came to a stop on a placemat, the smell of ground meat and fish wafting towards her. Joanna shrugged, a sly smile playing on he flips.

"You said 'cat food' so I gave you cat food!" Joanna said, wiping her hands on the cloth she and used to carry the pot, "now eat up." Freya stifled a laugh as she watched Wendy hesitantly pick up a spoon and scoop out a small piece of processed meat.

"Let's hope it tastes as good as the commercials say it does," she joked, and Freya let out a bellow, coughing as she nearly choked on her own food. Smirking, Wendy then shoved the spoon in her mouth.

And immediately regretted it. Chair screeching against the tiled floor, she rushed to the sink, letting out a retching sound while her stomach decided to send back whatever it was she and eaten. And it did not look pretty, with large gray clumps of half-digested food coming up for air. Spitting, Wendy removed stray strands of hair from her mouth, her face contorted into that of complete disgust.

"Like it?" Joanna asked, raising an eyebrow. Freya herself looked about to vomit, her spoon pattering against the table a she let it slip from her fingers.

"I'm done," she commented, getting up to toss her bowl in the sink. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she said, "Alright, I'm going." Joanna waved her out the door, Wendy standing at the sink, breathing somewhat heavily.

"Wendy?" Joanna asked curiously, "are you okay?" Nodding, Wendy straightened herself out, saying, "I think I'l go out myself."

"Meeting someone?" Joanna joked lightly as Wendy waltzed out the door. Once outside, she whipped out a cellphone, aging mad sit manifest in the pocket of her dress. Dialing, she held it put o her ear, nibbling her lower lip nervously as she did so.

"Bobby, thank god," she said, once the phone went to voicemail, "listen, it's Wendy. There's something I need to tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean strolled up to the bar, licking his lips as he watched the bartender adjust the black bustier she wore, her chest spilling out the top just enough to look sexy yet respectable (if that was even remotely possible). The bartender was humming a song to herself, flipping the ends of her dar wavy hair over her shoulders as she looked up, her brown eyes widening once she saw Dean standing there.

"What can i get ya, buddy?" she asked, smacking her full red lips. Dean blinked, momentarily hypnotized by those lips, red lipstick smeared across them.

"Oh, uh, two beers," Dean answered, taking a quick peek behind chis shoulder to look at Bobby and Sam. The old man was sipping quietly on his brew while Sam sat uncomfortably in the chair- an due and good reason, making the chai rook like it belonged in a kindergarten classroom instead of a bar in a small town. Dean chuckled, turning back to the bartender. She was leaning her elbows on the table, giving Dean a full view of her cleavage, although rom the looks of it she really wasn't trying to do it on purpose.

"Anything else?" she asked, reaching underneath the counter. There was a clinking as she then placed two tall mugs on the table, flipping stray strands of hair out of her face. Dean shrugged, pulling out his wallet. He had made sure to bring extra money, depending on how expensive things in East End were.

"Yeah," he said, "what about your name?" A coy grin played on his lips as he watched her reaction- a mix of surprise and…. was it embarrassment? He wasn't too sure, judging by her rosy cheeks and pouty mouth.

"Freya," she said, pulling out a nozzle and spraying the cold liquid inside the glasses.

"A name fit for a goddess," Dean gave her a wink. At this, she frowned, placing her hands firmly on her hips. The nozzle fell from her hand, landing on the floor somewhere behind the bar. Dean shrugged, laughing uncomfortably. _Flattery usually works_, he thought awkwardly.

"Do you do this with every woman you see?" Freya asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Only pretty bartenders," Dean answered, but found out that would be the wrong answer, Freya's face turning to one of disgust.

"Listen pal," she said pointedly, "I don't care how pretty your eyes are, your tricks ain't working on me." Dean purse his lips, nodding somberly.

"And why won't my pretty green eyes work on you?" he dared, biting his tongue. People clinked glasses a few tables away, someone shouting incoherent nonsense to another fellow drunkard. The lights in the place suddenly became unbearable to stand under, and Dean could feel the perspiration under his layers of clothes.

"I'm taken," she said, "so I suggest you take your little games elsewhere, 'kay?" She smirked, pulling out the rag to start wiping the counter top again.

"Well, can I at least have the beers?" Dean asked, unsure if he was welcome to take them anymore. Freya just shrugged, jutting her chin at his table, "You may as well, considering I already poured 'em. Besides, it looks lil your boyfriend and his dad are getting impatient." Dean was taken aback, stealing a look at Sam, who met eyes at the precise moment he turned around. Much to Freya's amusement (and his dismay) Sam raised a hand, probably trying to figure out what the hold-up was. Bobby simply rolled his eyes, slamming his mug down on the table. Turning back to Freya, Dean jabbed a thumb in their direction, "You mean them?"

Freya nodded. They heard the door creak open, signaling that there was a new customer. Dean could feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he managed to stammer out an answer: "Th-that's my brother and a friend…" Freya rolled her eyes, ditching the rag on the counter to cross her arms over her chest, depriving Dean from looking any longer at what he now considered the "Valley of the Gods" because to him it looked absolutely great.

"Uh-huh," she muttered, "that's what they all say. Just take your beers and go, okay?" She gave him a sugary smile as he reluctantly grabbed the drinks, the glass cold against his skin as he gripped them tight. As Dean turned to go, he jumped, coming face to face with another incredibly attractive woman. A look of surprise came across her face as she nearly collided with Dean, making him almost spill the drinks.

"Sorry, hon!" she apologized, giving him a sly smile, as he nodded. A she got another look at her, he noticed she and the bartender looked very similar….

"S 'kay," he said, before turning around and heading back to the table, where Sam was starting to fidget, Bobby looking extremely bored.

"Flirting with the bartender again?" Sam poked fun as Dean slid him a beer, the liquid sloshing precariously over the edge.

"Whatever," Dean said, "it wasn't worth it anyway."

Sam shrugged, stealing a quick glance at her, an due and to agree that she was incredible to look at, with her dark hair and pouty lips. Sam lifted the glass, letting the drink wet his lips, "Why? She's pretty attractive."

"Because she thought…" Dean knew he was blushing. Sam broke out his megawatt grin.

"She thought what?" he asked. Bobby was now listening in, tipping the bill of his baseball cap upwards, revealing his squinting brown eyes.

"She thought we were gay," Dean said with an air, wrinkling his nose as he watched Sam widen his eyes with shock, although it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, considering it had happened multiple times before. Bobby scoffed, rapping his knuckles against the lacquered wood of the table.

"Alright, well, when you two lovebirds are done squabbling, we should probably be on the lookout for her, okay?" Reluctantly, the brother's nodded, letting their eyes dart in between the crowds.

Dean immediately rested his gaze on the bartender, who was now chatting with the woman he had bumped into, both women laughing somewhat loudly. He jutted his chin towards them, asking Bobby, "Is it the chick at the bar?"

"Which one?" Bobby asked, craning his neck to see who exactly Dean was talking about. Dean pointed to Freya, who was busily shaking a drink for the other woman. "Freya. The bartender."

"Freya?" Sam asked, "like, the Greek Goddess?" Dean snugged-he was never good with history so he had no clue what Sam was talking about. Bobby shook his head, wrapping his hand around his beer mug.

"Nah, that ain't her name," he said, keeping his eyes on Freya as well.

"Well, that would be nice to know before we began this little search, huh?"

"Whatever, you idjit," Bobby song at him, "her name is Wendy."

"Wendy what?" Sam prompted.

"Beauchamp," Bobby said, "Wendy Beauchamp." He then pointed to Freya and the other woman, "I have a hunch it's the woman in the black dress, but I can't be too sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Dean scowled.

"I've spoken with her before, I've never seen her in person," Bobby explained with a swig of his drink. Little droplets stuck to his beard and mustache, some of it dripping onto the table. Dean shrugged- it was the same with him and Benny, a vampire that had helped him escape Purgatory. Both had only spoken until they met face to face a few months smirked as he gestured to the bar, "Care to go try again?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dean grumbled a curse at Sam as he once again made his way to the bar, smiling when Freya sent a smile his way. The other woman- whom he was assuming for the moment was the Wendy Beauchamp Bobby was talking about- clasped her ahdns tougher, resting them on the counter of the bar.

"Can't take no for an answer, huh?" Freya said arrogantly, then to the woman, "So Aunt Wendy, what was it you were telling gem again?" The woman- Wendy, Dean tucked the name into his thoughts- gave Dean a wary look before saying to Freya, "Are you are you want me to tell you here?"

"It's okay, really," Freya giggled, a noise that sent Dean to heaven right there. It was a mix of tinkling bells and whistling wind-chimes, all wrapped up in red. Wendy shrugged, casting her grey eyes down.

"Alright," she said, quieter than before, "so this morning, I woke up covered- drenched in sweat-"

"You said that was from the dream," Freya said. Dean grinned, totally unaware of what they were talking about. Awkwardly, he slid onto eh stool next to Wendy. cutting in with, "Nightmare?"

Freya and Wendy both shot him such deadly glares Dean suddenly felt as if he might be sent back to Purgatory just sitting there- and as far as he knew, it was not a great place to be. He coughed, "Sorry, sorry."

"Anyway," Wendy said, slapping her hand against the bar, "so I woke up covered in sweat, and it was from the dream, but this wasn't a normal dream…." As she tabled on, Dean furrowed his brow- _What does she mean, not a normal dream? _Freay suddenly gasped, grabbing Wendy;s hand.

"You mean you had one?!" she squealed excitedly, Wendy nodding, but Dean noticed that she wasn't as happy about it as Freya.

"Freya, sweetheart, you can not tell your mother, you understand?" Wendy warned, "because this was not one of those fortune cookie visions, there is no good part!" Freya's face fell, lower lip quivering.

"What….?"

"I know, it's bad, but I can't tell Joanna just yet," Wendy said, trying her best to comfort Freya, but unfortunately getting nowhere. Her face was shell-shocked, complete and utter astonishment.

"B-But-" Freya began, Wendy shushing ghee before continuing, "I know, I know, but there's someone who can help me."

"Who?"

"He asks dmd to meet him here, he says he knows some people who can help." Now Dean was intrigued, distracted from Freya's luscious lips for a moment.

"But what's his name?" Freya let out a nervous laugh.

"Bobby," Wendy said with a heavy sigh, "Bobby Singer."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean jumped up suddenly from the bar, "Did you just say Bobby Singer?" he questioned, the woman's silvery eyes wide and startled. She looked back to Freya, nodding simply.

"Why?" she asked, "you know him?" Licking his lips Dean nodded, letting his eyes trail back to his table. Sam held a hand up at him, probably getting extremely impatient that he was still there and not back at the table. Dean nodded, fixing the shoulders of his shirt where they had started riding up his armpit.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "you need to talk to him?" Wendy nodded and Dean started walking over to his table, beckoning Wendy to follow him. He noticed her give Freya a confused shrug before getting up gracefully out of her seat, careful not to fall in her shoes as she followed him. As soon as the two approached the table, Bobby looked at the woman in surprise- his hunch had bee correct!

"I see you bought back a souvenir," Sam joked, jutting his chin at Wendy, who just looked at the brothers, trying her best to discern what was happening. After a few minutes her confused state turned into that of contentment once her eyes fell on Bobby Singer, who tucked the bill of his baseball cap down low over his eyes. Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she plopped herself down next to him, leaving Dean to stand.

"So, Bobby," she said, staring right at Sam, "did you get my call?" Sam scoffed.

"I'm Sam," he said with a laugh. Wendy faltered as Sam said, "That's Bobby." He pointed to the man sitting next to him, in a plaid shirt and green vest. Wendy inspected the scruff that decorated his chin and upper lip before nodding her head.

"Of course he is," she mumbled, adding under her breath, "why couldn't you be pretty for once?!"

"Just get to the point, lady," Bobby snapped, "are you Wendy Beauchamp or not?" Wendy rolled her eyes at this, her bracelets jingling as she pointed at him.

"One, I am not old-" she paused t reconsider, then nodded, "okay i am ld, but I still loo pretty damn good for a woman who's lived for more than one hundred years…." Sam and Dena exchanged glances- did she just say what they thought she said? That isn't possible…. Dean thought as Bobby cut her off to laugh.

"Honey, no one mentioned that you looked old," he pointed out, making Wendy stop in her tracks. Nodding she said, "Of course no one did. But anyway- you got my call?"

"Why do you think we're sitting her now?" Bobby said incredulously. Wendy blew a raspberry.

"Um…. the only reason that my brother and I-" Dean put emphasis on 'brother', hoping the idea would pop into Freya's head that he was not gay. Of course, Freya was not at the table with them, instead shaking a drink for a tall handsome man at the bar.

"Wait a second…." Wendy looked from Dean to Sam then to Bobby "please don't tell me that these are the guy you wanted me to meet with?!" Bobby nearly waved a hand, presenting Sam and Dean with a flourish. Slapping a hand to her forehead, Wendy sighed. This was not at all what she was expecting. The wood of the table was rough against her elbows as she rested her chin in her hands, letting her silver eyes trail over Dean, then rest on Sam.

"These are the guys," Bobby said, "take them or leave them."

"But they don't look like witches," Wendy said, making Sam and Dean raise eyebrows in question, "they look like models!"

"Well, for one thing, these idjits ain't models," Bobby shook his head, sighing heavily, as if he was contemplating how to word his next sentence- which he probably was. Too often, he said something strange or rude and it affected the opposite party great. _Come on_, Dean thought, _don't fuck this one up, 'kay? _After a few minutes of silence, he added, "and they sure as hell ain't witches." At this, Wendy's eyes widened, and Dean thought he could see her pupils dilate into small slits, becoming silver colored cat eyes instead of that of a woman.

"Well, what are they?" she asked, "because you sounded pretty confident they would be able to help over the phone!"

"And I thought you would look like an old hag when you said you were a witch, so I guess the feelings mutual," Bobby shot back, making Wendy sputter in response.

"Okay, that was one time," Wendy raised a finger, "and that was in Salem when they burned everyone at the stake for no reason!" Sam widened his puppy-dog brown eyes.

"How old are you, exactly?" he asked tentatively. Wendy smiled at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Honey I'm way older than you will ever be in your life," she stated, "but if you want to, hazard a guess." Sam pursed his lips, Wendy training her eyes on him like a lion stalking hits prey. Dean grinned, leaning over the table.

"So, what's being burned at the stake like?" he asked suddenly. Wendy shrugged.

"Like you're taking a bath with Satan," she said jokingly. Everyone went silent, and her smile faded, "What is it?"

"We don't talk about….." Bobby trailed off. Wendy let her eyes dart between the three men- Dean had tensed up, rolling his shoulders bad and forth. Sam looked as if he was about to burst into tears or lash out in anger as he trembled slightly. Bobby was quiet, coughing to break the awkward silence.

"Oh….." Wendy realized, "oops."

"Oops is right, Miss Beauchamp," Bobby said.

"Is he really that bad?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. Some of her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, hanging like a curtain behind her back.

"He is when he's inside you, that's for sure," Sam piped up uncomfortably.

"You were possessed…." she said with a wince, "by Satan….."

"Yeah. Not fun." Wendy shrugged.

"At least you aren't cursed," she said, then with a tap of her necklace, "my sister Joanna and I have been cursed for eternity. I'm actually really jealous of her because she gets to have kids every single time." Bobby, who had been taking a swig of his beer, slammed the mug on the table. Foam clung to his mustache, looking like little snowflakes.

"Excuse me?" he said with bewilderment, Wendy nodding ferociously.

"Oh yeah," she said, "the bartender here? My niece Freya. She and her sister Ingrid have been reborn so many times, I myself have lost count. I meanwhile am infertile, so…. yeah."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Sam laughed nervously, "reborn?"

"Yeah, you know, they die, and Joanna will suddenly find herself nine months pregnant with Freya all over again," she snapped her fingers, "just like that. And three months later would come Ingrid-"

"How long do they manage to survive?" Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Funny thing about that," Wendy said, "they never seem to make it past the age of thirty, so-"

"That's bull," Dean cut her off.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"I don't believe you," Dean said, "not in a million years."

"After all you've been through?" Bobby chimed in with a hiccup, "you better believe it, you idjit!"

"Just ignore him, Miss Beauchamp," Sam said, "anyway, if you sister and your nieces are reborn s well, being reborn until the age of thirty, what about you? What's your curse?" Wendy gave an awkward smile, her nails tapping the emerald green jewels hanging aroun dyer neck on a slim golden chain.

"A necklace?" Dean said in disbelief, "your curse is high fashion?"

"No," Wendy rolled her eyes, "this necklace represents my life span."

"Life span?"

"Yes, pretty boy," Wendy explained, "it stays green for a good portion of my many lives and once I reach my last one-"

"Wait, you've lived more than once?!" Sam exclaimed, rapping his knuckles on the table.

"Well, I was burned at the stake in Salem, I opened a boutique in the fourth presinct in New Orleans back in the fifties, I was married, I was divorced, I was widowed-"

"Miss Beauchamp," Bobby tried catching her attention- they were rely getting off topic now.

"-Oh! I was also eaten by a crocodile!" she said, counting off her fingers, "not fun, let me tell you. And this morning-"

"Let me guess," Dean growled, "you died." Wendy nodded, her hands going instinctively to her hair.

"Yeah, so I'm sorry if my hair isn't perfect," she sighed, playing with the ends, "I was hit by a car, in case you were curious."

"Miss Beauchamp!" Bobby snapped at her, calling her to attention, " if you please! I don't have time to be sitting around here playing twenty questions."

"Geez, don't get so worked up, old-timer!" she laughed, then with a cough, "but you're right, we're getting off-topic. So, you know why i called, right?"

"You said something about a vision, if I'm correct," Bobby prompted. His beer sloshed a bit over the top of his mug as he pick fit up landing in small droplets on the table.

"Yeah, so you guys have hear of shape-shifters before, right?" Wendy asked, and when no one answered, she went on, "I'll take that as a yes. Anyway in my vision-"

"Hey, um, Aunt Wendy?" said a voice, and everyone looked up to see Freya, standing next to her aunt in her black top and tight jeans- which this up close, was too much for Dean to handle. As he looked her up and down, she bit her lip, some of her red lipstick staining her brilliantly white teeth.

"Yeah, hon?" Wendy turned her attention to her niece, "what is it?"

"I just wanted to let you now that I was going to go home," Freya said with a nod.

"But I thought your shift didn't end until two?" Wendy asked, infusion crossing her eyes. Freya shrugged, acutely aware that Dean was currently trying to check her out as much as possible before she left.

"Yeah, well, Killian texted saying he wanted to go out, so I'm meeting him at the house," Freya explained, "and he says hi. he should be coming over for dinner later." She sent Dean a set of daggers as she went o hug her aunt, giving Sam and Bobby a smile as she then went to leave.

"Who's Killian?" Bobby asked as Freya disappeared, and the tinkle of the bell above the poor signaled that she had left the premises, much to Dean's disappointment.

"Her boyfriend," Wendy said waving away the question as if it were a fly buzzing annoyingly in her face, "anyway, in my vision, I was running through these woods, and there was fog everywhere, screams…." her voice trailed off as she shivered, her jewelry rattling on her wrists. The three meant exchanged looks, really hoping they didn't think what they thought t was she was talking about.

"….and all of a sudden as I'm running, I see Joanna, by this gnarled black wood tree," Wendy went on, oblivious to their uncomfortable glances, "and I go to run to her, but as soon as I reach her, I see that she isn't standing by the tree, she's pinned to it, with… with a knife of some sort…. and…." By now she had started tearing up, small sobs breaking through her sentences. Hesitantly, Sam reached across the table, patting her hand kindly, trying to console her.

"Just let it all out, Wendy," he said, "just tell us what happened next." The woman nodded, letting Sam rest his hand on hers for a moment longer before drawing away.

"So, she's dead, right?" Wendy recapped, "and I suddenly see this shadow flash by. I run after it, but then find Freya's body, sprawled on the ground, and a blade similar to the one in Joanna was going right through her skull…." The men winced as they pictured it- Freya's pretty face stained with red, skull cracked to pieces. Shaking the image away as best he could, Dean cleared his throat, "So you mention Joanna and Freya, what about your other niece, what was her name…."

"Ingrid," Wendy said. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, what about Ingrid? Is she there?" A stern looked replaced the cocky glint in his eye, his relaxed demeanor now all business.

"Well, after I find Freya and Joanna, I see the flash again," she said, "and there's a third scream. I run towards the sound, but I just…. stop." The wood of the table was scratching Dean's palms as he leaned in, the fabric of his clothes straining against his muscle.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean pressed. Wendy trembled momentarily, tears beginning to dot the corners of her eyes again.

"It was Ingrid," she said, "I was standing at her grave." Licking his lis, Dean sighed. The vision sounded like something out of a horror movie to him, but with everything he and Sam had done in the past, it wasn't that hard to believe, a witch who predicts that her entire family is going to die soon.

"And the flash?" Sam asked gently, "did you see it again?" Wendy nodded.

"I saw it again out of the corn rod my eyes and when I turned around, I was stabbed- killed, in the middle of the strange woods with my family, and a gravestone." She gulped as she finished her tale, "and then it goes black. The end." Nodding, Sam leaned back in his chair, Bobby lifting his beer mug to his lips. A she took a particularly long slurp, Wendy asked, "What do you think it means? I mean, I've always been able to read visions and auras, but I'm not so sure about this one."

"What part do you not get about it?" Dean retorted, "your entire family dies, including you." Sam sent him a glare as he then said, "The question, Dean, is who kills her entire family including her?" Wendy cast her eyes down, staring at her lap, the soft fabric of the dress Joanna lent her that morning.

"There was one thing," she said finally, "before everything blacks out."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I saw the killer, before everything disappeared," Wendy said, "and he was holding a long silver knife, with a curved end." _That sounds like an Angel Blade_, Dean thought, crossing his arms. Nodding, Sam encouraged her to tell them more, anything she might be able to remember.

"He had on a black t-shirt, with a green shirt on over it," Wendy began describing the killer in her vision, looking between the brothers. Her eyes widnes a bit when she looked at Dean, realizing that he, in fact, was wearing a black shirt with a green shirt over it.

"What else?" Sam said.

"He had short blondish brown hair, she said, keeping her eyes on Dean, her intense gaze making the hunter squirm slightly as she said, "and his eyes were glowing green….."

Sam coughed- most likely front eh dust that swirled through the air of the bar- saying, "Okay, what else? There's a lot of people with blond hair and black t-shirts, you know?" Wendy pointed to Dean, much to Sam and Bobby's surprise.

"It was him," she said finally, her voice grove and hollow, "in my vision….. he killed my entire family in my vision."


End file.
